I am a lightning rod for poor customer service. Follow my hilarious misadventures and feel better about your innate ability to zero in on the crazies.

Wednesday, December 6

Fun With Maintenance

The heat distribution in our apartment is pathetic. The other night I woke up drenched in sweat. I used my nifty desk thermometer to determine that our bedroom was 83°. I put the same thermometer in my 2-year-old's bedroom; 61°. Every vent in the apartment is closed except the one in her room. We had this problem last winter, too, but I didn't have a 3-month-old coughing and sweating by my side at the time.

So I called maintenance. Hee hee.

Two men showed up, determined the vent in her room is indeed blowing, and decided it would help if her window weren't poorly sealed and allowing cold air in. We'll get you new weatherstripping, they said, and left.

Of course, they never came back. Instead, the next morning, I got an e-mail from the management office declaring my support ticket closed.

I dialed maintenance and identified myself. Where oh where is my weatherstripping?

She put me on hold while she checked. She returned. "Oh, they had to order it. It will take a few days."

"Okay, then why is my support ticket closed?"

I could hear the unspoken duh as she replied, "Because the issue is resolved."

"Not on my end," I told her. "My bedroom's still cold!"

"But they'll come back," she insisted.

"How will they know to come back if the support ticket is closed?" I wanted to know.

"They just know," she retorted.

Are there really people for whom this is true? Because if I had to give Vegas odds on this one . . .